The chief of MI18 rapped his fingers on his desk, waiting for a report, waiting for some good news. He looked at his watch and realised that some time had passed. He looked down at his desk and shook his head, hoping to himself that he was wrong. Standing up, he reached into his suit and drew out his phone. Calling a number, he walked off. The phone rang and rang.

  Ellis looked down at the ringing phone, still naked and covered in dried blood, standing in the large pool of the bodily fluid. With a bloody hand, she reached into the corpse’s uniform and drew out the phone. She answered it.

  “Please, for the love of God, tell me that she’s dead.” The chief said desperately.

  “Nope.” Ellis replied nonchalantly.

  “You!” He suddenly shouted angrily, stopping in place. “How did you get a hold of this phone?!”

  “So, you’re the chief of MI18, huh?”

  The chief said nothing.

  “I thought that you guys didn’t exist, that you just built the organisation but never found a use for it. But it seems that I was wrong. You little fuckers have been killing off my employees one by one.”

  “Someone has to take care of matters. After all, we can’t let a psychopath dominate the country. Now listen here, you can either surrender and turn yourself in, or I will wage war against you.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  The chief chuckled as he stepped over to an employee on a computer, amused by the two words. “Lady, we have a room that we specifically use to execute criminals. Do you really think that you will be a match for me?” He tapped the employee on the shoulder and then gestured to the phone to his ear and then to the computer. The worker instantly got to the task of tracing the call. “Listen here, Miss Silver. Surrender now and I will make sure to not have you executed. You will receive a fair trial. How about that for a deal?”

  “Fuck your deal.” She suddenly said and took the phone from her ear, snapping it in half.

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  “Hello? Hello?!” He took his phone from his ear and saw that the call was disconnected. “Bitch!” He shouted angrily. He looked over to the employee, his face instantly neutral. “Please tell me that you managed to make a trace.”

  “No. She broke the connection before I could pinpoint it.”

  The chief roared, cursing. Suddenly, he calmed down a bit, sighing heavily. “Alright, no matter. We still know where Pulvis is. If things get too out of hand, we can still infiltrate it.”

  The chief walked down a corridor and came up to a metal door. He banged his fist on it. “Ghostflake!” He called out. Quickly, the metal slot in the door opened up. An eye looked at him, completely black. The man may have suffered from aniridia, but he could still see his enemies, as clear as day. His other eye was gone, a black eyepatch covering it.

  “What do you want?” Ghostflake snarled, maddened that his alone time had been disturbed.

  “I have got a target for you.”

  The slot closed up and there was a loud clunk as the door opened up. Ghostflake looked at him. He was a tall, thin man dressed in a white shirt, his sleeves rolled up. His white pinstripe suit was hung up behind him. His hair was white and messy, stuck up at odd angles. He crossed his arms, flexing out his toned physique. “Who is this target?”

  “Ellis Silver.”

  “The right-hand woman of Pulvis?”

  “Not anymore. Artificis is dead and she has taken over. She needs to be taken care of. If she dies, Pulvis will fall once and for all.”

  “I’m going to need my partner with me.”

  “Of course, anything.”

  Ghostflake unfolded his arms and rolled down his sleeves, buttoning them up. He turned around and threw his suit on. Grabbing the longsword that was laid against the wall, he walked out of his room, closing the door. He stepped up to the metal door opposite him and rapped his knuckle against it. The slot opened, but then as quickly as it had, it closed back up again. One glance was enough to know the situation. The door opened and there stood a woman, also dressed in a white pinstripe suit. Her hair was long and brown, tied up into a ponytail. The assassin nodded to her. “Miss Cantankerous.”

  “Ghostflake.” She greeted him back, nodding to him. Without asking what the situation was, she turned and walked over to her weapon, grabbing her Canadian Artillery Officer’s sword. The scabbard was crafted from steel and the grip was woven with metal. It may have been just under two centuries old, but it was one of the finest blades in history and still knew how to do its job.

  “Take care of Ellis Silver.” The chief told them. “Decapitate her for all I care, I just want her dead, do I make myself clear?”

  Both assassins nodded and then made their way out to take care of their target.